Forget jewelry, flowers, clothes and shoes . . . this Mama wants some good eats!
1. A peanut butter sandwich, whole and fresh and made with soft thick slices of bread, that is all my own. Not the leftovers from my kids, where all that remains are dried-out crusts with barely any good stuff.
2. French fries, hot and salty, that I feel entitled to eat as soon as they arrive. Not staring at them on my kids’ plates, longing for them, and finally giving in and eating them when they are cold and chewy.
3. Anything someone else makes for me (and cleans up every trace of preparation, plus the dishes when I finish).
4. Anything that I can sit down and eat uninterrupted. I’m only asking for about 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes without having to fetch water or napkins or paper towels for spills. I eat fast.
5. A hot cup of coffee with real cream and sugar, served in a mug. Not Splenda, not milk, not a paper cup of coffee on the go. Coffee is the nectar of the Gods, but this mortal sure enjoys it.
6. An omelet, loaded with cheese and bacon, that comes with a free pass for being Jewish. Not egg whites with turkey bacon and low-fat cheese. I want the triple bypass on a plate. And a side of pancakes with butter and syrup. Not whole-grain pancakes. The really fluffy buttermilk kind. Possibly with some chocolate chips sprinkled in.
7. A melty, warm chocolate chip cookie, covered with vanilla bean ice cream, a drizzle of caramel and a ladle full of hot fudge. One spoon.
8. Birthday cake, a fat slice with a giant frosted flower on it, instead of the boring middle piece with practically no icing. A second slice if I want it. Like every other food on this list, the cake has zero Weight Watcher points.
9. A Bacino’s stuffed spinach pizza, my absolute favorite Chicago pizza in the world. We used to get Bacino’s every week in Lincoln Park, and it is one of the things I miss most about living in the city.
10. Any food I can eat with my family. My happiest times occur when we are all in one place, hanging out together and talking. I’ll pretend I don’t see the crumbs and the drinks spilling. I’ll pretend I don’t hear Annie Rose asking if it’s time for dessert before I even sit down. I’ll pretend I don’t notice Cleo standing precariously in her chair because she refuses to use a booster even though she is too short to reach the table. I’ll pretend I don’t notice the spot where Annie Rose carved a pig snout into our good dining room wood table and then carved her name next to it (yet wondered how I knew she was the culprit). All Jewish families should have a pig snout carved into the table where they eat Shabbat dinner each Friday night. I'll eat a meal with my family, and I will feel bliss.
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